


memory influx

by circus (orphan_account)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-17
Updated: 2011-09-17
Packaged: 2017-10-23 19:58:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/254302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/circus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Dean…” <i>Say it  again, like a balm. Heal those years in hell. Say his name, his name, his name.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	memory influx

He was scared. He hated that feeling, wanted to get  away from it, to push it away. But no matter what he did, he couldn’t get away from the fear.

The pain.

 Sam. Gone. Sammy, lost, alone. Darkness. Pain.  Fear. Hell. Hell. He was back now but. But? He  wasn’t back, either. It was unreal, surreal. Superficial. It was… impossible. Here was Sammy, his little brother  back. But he wasn’t. He wasn’t the same. What was wrong? What was missing? He couldn’t name it. He couldn’t recognize his baby brother. The very thought made him blink furiously and growl to hide the tears. Damn. Now he was crying? Some Winchester.

 “Dean?”

Great. Now the stupid smartass was right behind him, wondering why his shoulders were shaking. Amazing. Really great. What had happened to his game-face?

“Oh, bitch. It’s you.”

“Dean, I…”

“Sam, no.”

“But Dean I wanted to drive the car!”

And then all of a sudden they weren’t in the motel anymore.

>  _The sunlight was shining through the window of the hut, little Sammy was playing with his soldiers. The radio was blaring pop music and Dean sat on a  chair, kicking his legs against floor, bored._
> 
>  _“Dean, I - “_
> 
>  _“No, Sammy, I don’t want to play with your  soldiers!”_
> 
>  _“But Dean I wanted to climb in the car.”_
> 
>  _The rusty old, little trolley. Sammy called it ‘the car’. He liked to make booming noises and rush around the room with it, “driving” it._
> 
>  _“Oh, alright, Sammy.” With a sigh, he jumped off  the chair and trudged towards the bedroom._
> 
>  _Five minutes later, Sammy was laughing and yelling.  “Faster! Faster! Faster, Dean!” The bigger brother sweated and puffed and ran with the trolley, pulling it behind him._
> 
>  _“That’s it, Sammy, I can’t run any longer. I’m  tired and it’s time for lunch.”_
> 
>  _“Dean, I - “_
> 
>  _“Sammy, no!”_
> 
>  _“But I just wanted to say that I don’t want lunch. You can have the Cheerios. I’m not hungry.”_

And the motel came back.

“Sure, Sammy.”

He threw over the keys to his brother, who the  bunch with his right hand. “So. Where to?” Dean  sighed as he climbed into the passenger seat.

“Alabama, I’m thinking. Three missing people over  the past week, and I check up on the neighbourhood  where we’re headed. There’s a regular pattern.  People go missing around everytime the lake floods.  I’m thinking some kind of water spirit? Merpeople, maybe. It happens every twelve years. But the thing is,” he added, as he took a took a swig of beer  from the bottle Dean had offered him, “Is that _this_ time - “

“Sam, no, don’t, NO!” Dean yelled, trying to take the wheel from his brother’s hands. Confused, Sam held onto it. “Jeez, man, quiet down will you? You look as if you’d just seen some creepy-ass pagan go- ” Sam stopped, staring at his brother with a  puzzled frown. “Um, hello?”

Dean continued to gaze at the dashboard as if it were strangling him.

“Dude? Dean, listen to me!”

     —

 _No, no, no. He’s back. He’s back. For good. Not  that again. Go away. You’re just a stupid memory. Go away._

“This time,” the smooth voice whispered, “You will  pay.” No, no, _NO_! All gone! Done! Over with! Sam was back! Sammy was right next to him, was driving the car, his own little Sammy who loved him and gave him the Cheerios prizes, his own Sammy was safe and sound, he was asking him, Dean, what was wrong. He had to get out of this private hell, put his game-face on. He had to be tough for Sam, for  Sammy, his little brother, his wonderful little baby brother, had to drag out of here, this wouldn’t do, lapsing into the past never did anyone any good, Sammy was back, he was back, they were back together, and - he gasped involuntarily as Sammy put a hand on his.

As Sam’s voice, _Sam’s_ voice, Sam’s _voice_ spoke to  him, as his little bitch asked him what was wrong. What was _wrong_. Everything, he wanted to say. Everything’s been wrong since you left. Because you _left_. Your leaving was wrong. It was all wrong.  Dean, him, alone, was wrong. They were brothers, together. They weren’t _supposed_ to be alone, each without the other. He needed Sam, Dean. Sam was the one thing that kept him going, hunt after hunt, scar after scar, bullet after bullet, cuss and yell  and kill them all, shoot them down, those sonsofbitches could take his little brother, he had to stop them.

And there was Dad, and Mom. _But they’re gone now, Sammy_ , he thought, trying to speak. _They’re gone and everything I do is for you three. But especially you, Sammy,_ he struggled to say, his green eyes meeting Sam’s bluish brown ones, trying to tell him everything, everything. The pain, the fear. And somehow, Sam understood. Those jade orbs poured his brother’s soul out to him, and he understood.

“Hey, Dean,” he whispered, staring at his bigger brother who held onto his hand as if it were a  lifeline. Looking so vulnerable, trembling so much.  “Dean, I -“

“Dean,” he took a deep breath. _Say that name again  and again. Wonderful, perfect name. His brother’s.  His brother’s. Keep going. Tell him. Do it._ “Dean, I’m back.”

The trembling stopped but the jade eyes still gazed into the sea blue ones, still longing, still shedding dry, burning tears.

“Dean…” _Say it  again, like a balm. Heal those years in hell. Say his name, his name, his name._

“Dean, please don’t -  don’t look at me like that. I’m alright, I really am, and Dean - ” his voice rose all of a sudden. “I really want to say something, Dean, but just relax first, okay?”

Suddenly Dean pulled himself together. “Sure, relax. You’ve gone to hell and come back and everything and I have no idea what they did to you, or what happened, and you won’t talk about it, and _sure_ , man, I’m supposed to relax! Like, dude, got any pie?”

“Jerk.” Just one word. Rude. An insult. But it was Sam’s. It was Sammy’s. Sammy’s word. Dean smiled calmly at him.

“Bitch?” he asked, courteously, with a nod.

“I missed you,” Sam said simply. The car was still, everything was still. The sun shone down and the  stream beside the road flowed silently and slowly, and the air was windy but the wind was still and the trees waved in the breeze but the leaves were still, and the two brothers looked at each other, one into another, part of one another, and they  held hands and their hearts beat and their blood  flowed and their eyes glowed and they were still,  and everything was still and everything could wait  because everything was okay and who gave a damn about anything else because Dean liked the chick-flick moments and Sam liked the feel of Dean’s hand under his own and they smiled.

And far up, the sun shone down harder.


End file.
